


We would love you to stay

by tea_for_lupin



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 02:58:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_for_lupin/pseuds/tea_for_lupin
Summary: The first time John took him: on his knees with Ben’s back against the wall, Sarah watching— bright-eyed with mischief—from the couch.‘Slow down, John,’ she said, eyebrows drawn in a pretence of censure, ‘or there won’t be anything left for me.’*John and Sarah know what they want, and they hope Ben wants it too.As always, rapidly written, relentlessly unbetaed. Enjoy!





	We would love you to stay

The first time John took him: on his knees with Ben’s back against the wall, Sarah watching— bright-eyed with mischief—from the couch.

'Slow down, John,' she said, eyebrows drawn in a pretence of censure, 'or there won’t be anything left for me.'

And that was, that was— 'Oh Christ,' Ben said, ' _John_ —' it was too much, it was all over; he tightened his hand convulsively in John’s hair. John swallowed him down greedily, sat back on his heels with a satisfied smirk that almost had Ben hard again, straight away.

Sarah sighed, unfolded herself from where she had curled in the corner, chin on her knees. 'What did I tell you?' She shook her head, smiling half-wickedly as John attempted and failed to look contrite. 'Now come over here and make it up to me.'

John levered himself to his feet with a 'Yes ma’am,' that had Sarah dissolving into giggles, spreading her legs, and Ben slid down the wall to rest on the floor, still breathless. 

Sarah’s head was thrown back, the long line of her throat blissfully exposed, and Ben did not know, yet, whether he was meant to look. But: 'Ben,' Sarah said, and her voice was warm with welcome, 'Ben, you too, come here.' She stretched an arm, awkward, over the side of the couch, gesturing him up; Ben hesitated, still not sure where to turn his gaze.

'Are you sure—' he began, but she said, 'Yes, Ben, come—ah, god, John! that’s amazing—come here and kiss me, you’re much too far away. Also,' she added, squinting, 'wearing _far_ too many clothes.'

'I’ll take the blame for that,' John offered, lifting his head from between Sarah’s legs; his mouth was wet and arousal flared again in Ben’s gut at the sight. 'I’m afraid I was in too much of a hurry.' 

'So I noticed.' She pushed John’s head down; hungrily, he went back to work. Ben tore off his clothes and collapsed on the couch; Sarah eyed him, appreciative. 'Now that’s better,' she said, and wound her hand into his hair to pull him close enough to kiss. 

A dreaming time: of lips, of tongues, of teeth, then Sarah’s breath was coming short in Ben’s mouth; she arched and gasped and came with a shout, muffled against his neck. He held her, amazed, while she trembled, and laughed, and tugged John from his position on the floor. 

'Your turn,' she said; John moaned in deep pleasure as Sarah took his cock in her hand, stroking, stroking. Ben wet his lips, bereft of words from wanting; he slipped to the floor between John’s legs, asking the question with his eyes and his hands. 

' _God_ yes, please,' John said, 'you don’t know, Ben, how much I’ve wanted—' His hands were in Ben’s hair, stroking, stroking; with a gentleness Ben hadn’t been expecting. 

'Wanted what… sir?' he asked, daring; heard Sarah’s laughing gasp; felt—heart-stoppingly—John’s hands cease moving in his hair. Ben froze, felt himself flush to the roots; when he looked up, he saw John’s mouth set in a stern line below eyes crinkled with fond amusement. 

'If you can’t guess by this time, Jones,' he said, raising an eyebrow, thrusting towards Ben’s hovering mouth, 'then I’m afraid I’m not sure what to tell you.' 

Ben smiled slowly, relief flooding through him. 'I think I can work it out from here, sir.' 

The hands in Ben’s hair became more insistent, less gentle, as John gave himself up to Ben’s mouth and long fingers, kneading, coaxing. Sarah pressed close to John’s side, making small sounds: of encouragement, of want. 

At last: 'Jones—’ John, breathless, somehow managed words. 'God, that is good, too good, Jones— _Ben_ —I won’t, I can’t last—' and Ben, from between lips reddened and slicked, gasped, 'I can take it, sir, let me, please.'

Ben thought he might come again, untouched, from the sheer pleasure of John’s release in his mouth. It was Sarah who finished him, pouncing on him as he wiped away drops with the back of his hand. And the way she rode him: with a glorious lack of mercy, greedy, sure; taking him over the edge of his orgasm with her own.

When sweat turned chill against skin Ben came back to himself; Sarah snuggled, dozing, between his side and the couch, while John leant forward to brush hair from her face. 

'Wake up, love,' he said, 'we can’t leave you two here on the floor.' 

Sarah groaned, and stretched; Ben rolled to give her room, blinked at the clothes in puddles on the floor. He reached for his shirt.

'I should—go,' he said, unmoored, suddenly, from the security of sex, uncertain of his place; and when he looked John in the eyes tomorrow, at the station, what would he see?

'Certainly not,' John said at once, 'what kind of people would kick their partner out at this hour? The least we can do is offer you a bed, though if you share ours, I will warn you—Sarah snores.'

Sarah smacked John’s arm. ' _Someone_ snores, and it’s not me and it’s not Sykes.' She leant over to brush a kiss against Ben’s cheek. 'We would love you to stay,' she said, softly, 'unless, of course, you don’t want to—?'

Ben cleared his throat. 'Thanks,' he said, his voice rough around the edges, 'I’d love to.'


End file.
